


teach me how to go on without you (and I swear I won't let go)

by margaretsreplacement



Series: won't let go (Post 5x22 Fics) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daisy and Jemma friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Mention of major character death, Nightmares, Speculation, Spoilers for 5x22, lots of hugs, post 5x22, still hopeful though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaretsreplacement/pseuds/margaretsreplacement
Summary: She knew that breaking the loop would cost her that future, but even Jemma “I excel at preparation” Simmons couldn't anticipate how much it would hurt.The fallout of the season 5 finale.





	teach me how to go on without you (and I swear I won't let go)

**Author's Note:**

> Like everyone else, I’m trying to come to terms with what happened during the finale. Apparently I can only write when this stupid show breaks my heart and prevents me from sleeping two nights in a row. Warning: contains spoilers for the season finale and carries a good dose of angst. I tried to keep it hopeful near the end, but if you are still feeling raw from the episode you might want to revisit in a little bit after you’ve had some time to rest and heal. Stay healthy, guys!

Jemma doesn’t feel so hollow, here. The gravitonium twists and casts a silvery glow on the Zephyr walls. She plays with her wedding ring as she watches it rise and fall, the skin on her finger starting to turn red and irritated but not enough so to cause her to stop. The chain that carries Fitz’s wedding band shifts as she releases a shuddery breath.

She’d once asked Fitz if they’d find something magnificent in space. She can still see the picture he’d hung in a half-hearted attempt to decorate the bare walls of the Playground, can still feel the warm press of his lips to her own, but they pale in importance to the surrounding stars, guiding her to something more spectacular than anything the world has left to offer her. All that’s left on earth there is a hidden grave that houses her life, her heart, her home. The only hope she could really find had fled to the cold heart of space. Jemma Fitz-Simmons is tired of space, but the fatigue of once again being separated from her best friend has turned the cramped darkness and steady thrum of the Zephyr into her home.

“Just imagine his face when he sees that he built an actual spaceship. It really puts those early Bus days to shame.”

Even through the tears fogging her vision and small not-quite smile that seems to be the most she can manage nowadays, Jemma feels a warmth at Daisy’s voice. The team has taken to giving her space when she makes her way back here, allowing her to sit with her thoughts and surround herself with the familiar comfort of Fitz’s designs. While the little moments of reverie do relieve some of the heaviness—somehow always there, despite the fiery determination to not fail him, not again—Daisy’s company is a welcome change.

“It really is quite remarkable, isn’t it?” she says.

“Only thing missing is a fish tank”. Daisy’s voice cracks. Jemma tries not to dwell too much on thoughts of Coulson, hoping he is sipping drinks with May on the beach rather than surrounded by stiff hospital sheets. But she knows the thoughts weigh heavily on Daisy, so she gives her friend a slight nod.

“We’ll take it up with the director when time permits.” The thought makes her pause. Mack is usually the one who comes to retrieve her when needed, and she frowns. “Where is Mack?”

Daisy is facing her, back to the antigravity system, and Jemma can see the hesitation that crosses her face before she answers. “He and Elena turned in for the night—or day. Whatever. I stopped keeping track of time after 48 hours of drifting through deep space.”

She knows Daisy is studying her, looking for signs that she overstepped with mention of the one couple the universe hadn’t managed to split yet. Jemma supposes she should be jealous, or angry, or hurt, but she can’t find it in her to be anything but relieved that two of her makeshift family, at least, have managed to find happiness.

The timer in her mind reaches 273 hours and Jemma knows that were she to look at her tablet, the times would match up exactly. She’s stuck on the eleventh day of living her greatest nightmare.

They sit in silence a few moments, until Daisy clears her throat. “Not saying that it’ll be any better than the mush Davis threw together last time, but Elena took over meal duty tonight so there’s at least a promise of _some_ flavor.” She shrugs, looking from Jemma to the gravitonium for the first time, and cringes.

Jemma stepped forward and replaced the wall panel with an apologetic glance. “If that happens to fail, I do have some biscuits stashed in my bunk.”

Daisy gasps and grabs at her chest in mock astonishment. The words fall a little flat, but Jemma appreciates her friend’s attempt at levity when she says, “I never thought I would live to see _the_ Jemma Simmons, health-nut extraordinaire, actually consume sugar on her own free will.”

Sweets were one of her last lines of defence when it came to fighting exhaustion of late-night cramming or ideas that refused to leave until the early morning hours. Fitz had proven early on that he had little self control when it came to snacking, and since their second year of the Academy Jemma had taken it upon herself to hide staches of junk food for him. Pain at the memory sears through her chest and pushes tears to her eyes but Jemma grabs at it, drives it towards the betrayed anger that has been building since she broke her bloody promise and once again left her husband’s side. Never again, she decides. She’ll buy him all the Maltesers and Twiglets in the world if it will keep them together.

“Yes, well,” Jemma swallows. “Desperate times and all that.”

Daisy’s eyes soften and she tilts her head in an invitation to follow. “Yeah, all that.”

 

* * *

 

He haunts all of them, a fact that Jemma takes little comfort in. Mack always seems to be watching her, and she can see the weight that guilt has put on his shoulders. Elena seems to be more wary of her prosthetics, examining them closely for signs of damage or wear. Even Davis and Piper hesitate to mess too much with the Zephyr, something Jemma suspects comes out of fear of accidentally destroying Fitz’s baby rather than inexperience.

She’s no exception—there’s rarely a moment where he _isn’t_ at the forefront of her thoughts. Usually it’s understandable, as her drive to find him is what holds her together. Unfortunately, Daisy is a rather inconvenient (if well-meaning) roadblock when it comes to Jemma’s drive to work nonstop until he is found.

“Even Davis takes time to eat and sleep, and he’s practically fused to the pilot’s chair at this point,” she says. Jemma has little desire for food or rest at this point, but she gives in anyway. Forgetting to care for herself does not necessarily increase her ability to find Fitz.

Things are harder in the moments when Mack (almost as bad as Daisy but armed with the advantage of being her superior officer) bans her from even entering the control room for a few hours. When not surrounded by other agents or barking orders, it's easier to remember that she's alone.

She finds herself looking for him, turning to ask about a particular star formation only to see empty space. Sometimes she reaches to grab his hand, only to jerk it back and stare at her wedding ring instead. Despite their constant separation, her body has grown used to him being there. It has her on edge.

Mack gives her the video he recorded at their wedding, and while she’s saved it to her phone she has yet to touch it. Next time she sees Fitz will be face-to-face, she reasons, not on a screen. There are little thoughts, ones she blocks desperately but sometimes slip through, that remind her how the man in the video is no longer there.

She grits her teeth and presses on. Fitz is waiting for her.

 

* * *

 

She misses Deke.

The thought comes to her suddenly while examining the Remorath’s navigation chart. She freezes and leans against the table to keep the world from swaying. Deke is the one that had stolen the hard drive in the first place, and he isn’t even here to complain about being in space again or to comfort her with stories of his mother.

Not that it would do much good anyway. She knew that breaking the loop would cost her that future, but even Jemma “I excel at preparation” Simmons couldn't anticipate how much it would _hurt._

Anger slithers through her veins, making the weak lights of the Zephyr sharp and bright. Her husband, her daughter, her grandson. Coulson. Her parents, who probably gave up hope on her returning their calls a long time ago. What more could she lose?

“Agent Simmons? You alright?”

She glances at Piper, who is staring at her white knuckles, and forces the tension from her body and a smile onto her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She turns her attention to the dots and lines in front of her, trying to make sense of it all. There’s a chance that she can have that again, she reminds herself. It’s the future that she’s actively chasing now that the fear and comfort of a fixed future has fled her. She tries to ignore to the heartache over something she never really had, but the dull throb is hard to bury beneath her determination. “Where were we?”

 

* * *

 

_The earth is intact and Coulson is still breathing and the creature that was once Talbot has been eliminated, but all Jemma knows is that her world has been destroyed. They’ve stopped the cracks in the earth, but her heart has been shattered beyond repair._

_Is she screaming? She’s not sure; Mack’s words are too loud in her ear as his large arms wrap around her when she sinks to the floor. She thinks he’s trying to protect her_ — _probably not from herself, as her limbs are too numb and dead_ (dead dead dead) _for her to even think about lashing out. She wants to tell him there’s no use in trying to shield her (because that’s what they are, isn’t it? The shield for others at the cost of taking the blows, taking the losses) because Fitz is gone. She can’t get the words out around the blockage in her throat._

_“You have to breath, Jem”. Mack had disappeared, replaced by warm hands on her cheeks, thumbs vainly swiping at the tears that just keep coming and coming and coming. She’s drowning again. His soothing accent weaves into her chaotic thoughts and she clings to it. “Deep breathes. In and out.”_

_She looks into his blue eyes and shivers. “They said you were gone,” she chokes. He shakes his head, giving her a watery smile that transports her to the bottom of the ocean and she clutches his shoulders tightly._

_“I’m so sorry,” he sighs, breath fanning across her face. “I never should have left your side.”_

_She feels warm wetness under her palms, sees red staining his wedding shirt, and she sobs. Even now this stupid, caring, selfless man is apologizing. She should be the one to apologize and she’s about to tell him as much when he starts to fade. The pressure of his hands leave her face numb and cold. Now she really is screaming, but his form crumbles beneath her no matter how tightly she holds on._

 

Daisy lurches back as Jemma’s eyes fly open and a gasp escapes her mouth. She’s shivering, sweat coating Fitz’s sweatshirt to her arms, and a blanket is tangled around her legs.

She struggles upwards. Daisy supports her back and tosses the blanket aside as Jemma sits on the edge of her bunk, placing her head between her knees.

“Easy, Simmons,” she murmurs as she braces her arm across the biochemist’s back. Jemma blinks, confused at how the inhuman managed to reach her quarters so quickly, before her eyes are drawn to the cot and pillows crammed between her own bed at the door.

She hadn’t wanted to be alone the first night, and Daisy hadn't bothered to move back to her own bunk. Despite the tension that had risen over the past couple weeks, it didn’t take long for the two to brush everything aside. Loss of a friend and husband, a father and mentor, had pulled to two closer together than even the carefree days when they were chasing 0-8-4’s and playing pranks. It was a small blessing in the midst of tragedy.

“Nightmare,” Daisy says—a statement, not a question—and Jemma is pulled to the present. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but it’s the first time the realization hits her with enough force to send her collapsing against Daisy.

“He’s dead,” she mutters, voice dazed and distant. Daisy stiffens and shakes Jemma slightly.

“He’s fine, Jemma. Just taking a nice little nap on his way to find you. We’re making good progress–”

“No!” Jemma snaps, clawing at the necklace that had fallen out from under her shirt. The smooth metal ring does little to soothe her nerves and somehow everything seems more real and dreamlike at the same time. “No, Daisy, he...he stopped breathing. There was a body.” She chokes at that. “He was hurt and scared and I wasn’t there and—oh god!” She makes to pull at her hair, but Daisy’s firm hands grab her wrists. Then, a soft whisper: “We didn’t even say goodbye.”

Daisy is silent and Jemma wishes she wasn’t so broken, wasn’t so beaten down by the world. She wants to comfort her, to just handle things herself and let her friend get some much-needed sleep.

Daisy breathes deeply and pulls Jemma into a hug. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jemma,” she says. “With Lincoln, I… I tried to distract myself and well,” she gives a bitter laugh. “You know how that turned out. But Fitz knew you loved him, I know he did, and you’ll be able to make sure he knows it once we find him.”

Jemma knows she should just drop it, but the pain and anger is overflowing now and she can't stop it. “But this Fitz was...he was real. There were no LMD’s or alternate realities this time. It was him and I wasn’t able to be there for him. I failed him, Daisy.” Jemma squeezes her eyes shut and guilt is added to the cocktail of her emotions. She’ll see Fitz again—she knows that, it’s the only thing that has kept her going—and she knows that Daisy doesn’t have that luxury, but Jemma can’t seem to stifle the selfish need for comfort.

Daisy pulls her tighter, and Jemma can feel tears on her own neck. “You weren't the one who failed, Simmons.” There's a plaque in the cockpit and Jemma wonders if Daisy sees it as a reminder of yet another one they couldn't save. “But even if you did, you get a second chance. You can help him heal. Maybe things can be better this time.” She pulls away and gives a teary smile. “And you’re allowed to grieve, you know. Out of all the crap we’ve been through, you deserve that at least.”

She isn't sure how to do that. She's been through hell and has slowly been clawing her way back over the past few months, and the idea of having time to actually process things is foreign to her. She glances at Daisy, with shadows under her eyes and trauma beneath her skin.

Jemma pulls her in once more. “You too, Daisy. You deserve it too.”

Maybe they can learn together.

 

* * *

 

It’s harder to take off than she’d originally intended and tears fall at the sight of her bare finger, but when she slips her ring onto the chain and watches it hang gently next to his, and strange sense of calm floods her.

She examines them one more time: engagement, wedding, heartbreak, hope, and tragedy all wrapped up in one little box. A chapter of her life, ended before it had really begun. She leans her head back and for the first time allows herself to fully smile. It’s forced, and she can't help but note that it comes a lot easier when directed at her favorite pair of blue eyes, but it’ll do.

It’s time for a better chapter, she decides. Cosmos be damned, her and Fitz will find each other again. Someday—once he is ready, after she’s told him everything, when her heart doesn’t feel so ragged—they’ll get their lives back again.

She doesn’t close the box quite yet, holding on for a little bit longer.

 

* * *

 

“We’re about five minute out from docking,” Davis shouts and Jemma swears that her heart trips over itself (despite how medically impossible that is). Daisy’s light squeeze to her shoulder does little to ease the nerves.

“He’s right there,” she murmurs, eyes taking in the growing shape of Enoch’s ship.

Daisy watches her self-consciously tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and laughs. “The guy’s not expecting to not see you for another 74 years. I highly doubt he’ll care about how you look since you two will be more busy showing the rest of us just how uncomfortable PDA can get. Don’t give me that look; an 846-hour road trip does things to people.”

Jemma scoffs, but her glare holds no real malice. Enoch’s voice crackles through the ship’s speakers, and she tenses. “He’s still Fitz,” she says softly. He won't remember all they'd been through—the good and the bad—and she feels like she might break down again, but he's still her Fitz. Daisy gives her a concerned glance but Jemma shakes her head.

The Zephyr moans and with a slight lurch, the two ships connect. A brief image of the box flashes across her mind; the two wedding rings clinking together gently, falling against one another.

_One day,_ she tells herself. _One day you will tell him._ But for now, she’s going to make sure he alone doesn’t carry the weight of the world. She’s going to carry it with him this time. Preferably somewhere far, far away from stars and secret bases.

It’s a promise she’s determined to keep; she’s never leaving his side again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Won’t Let Go” by Fivefold. Apparently I cope with Fitzsimmons angst by making Jemma and Daisy have late-night conversations (this is like the second fic in which I’ve done it), but there can never be too much Skimmons friendship in the world so I’m okay with that. I might be writing a second part from Fitz’s POV after Jemma finds him when I’m not so emotionally exhausted, but we’ll see. Thanks for reading!


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